


We Break With Speed

by SenshineKkaebsong



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, NCT Dream - Freeform, Self-Harm, Suicide, depictions of violence, nomin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenshineKkaebsong/pseuds/SenshineKkaebsong
Summary: Jeno pops a pill and life is okay.Jeno pops a pill and life goes on.Jeno pops a few pills and life begins to blur.Jeno pops a few pills and throws himself out a window.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun & Lee Jeno, Lee Jeno & Mark Lee, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	We Break With Speed

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This fic contains drug abuse, mental illness and suicide! Please DO NOT read if you are sensitive to these topics! 
> 
> Reposted from AFF! 
> 
> Also, I re-read this before posting it here and was like 'wtf is wrong with me??? how did I write this mess???' H E L P.

"I don't feel well." Jeno admits quietly. He pulls the hood of his maroon sweater further over his head and sinks lower into the cushioned seat. They're at their usual spot in the auditorium as per every Thursday and Friday lecture they share. It offers the perfect vantage point of the entire class, thereby allowing them to monitor their lecturer while stuffing their faces, napping or being otherwise occupied with their phones and laptops. Stealthy early escapes are easier and late arrivals go unnoticed. Oh, and they can see the slides too.

Jaemin turns to look at his friend curiously. "How?"

"What do you mean, _how?_ " Jeno retorts, head still hung low, his shoes kicked up on the seat in front of him. "I just don't feel well." It's not that he doesn't want to describe the terrible feeling clawing at his chest and the walls of his stomach, but that he doesn't know why he's feeling this way and the question will inevitably come up once he makes the admittance more of a situation. Jeno can feel his heart pounding erratically against his chest, a panicked staccato that causes his breaths to come short and hard.

He can't see anything other than the blurry outline of his skinny jeans behind his tears and there's an inherent need to scream, yell, bawl - anything to alleviate the pressure building up inside of him. A hand reaches across, palm upturned and Jeno vaguely registers it belongs to Renjun. He flinches at the feeling, mind craving the human touch but body rejecting it fiercely. It makes his stomach roil.

Jeno doesn't even realise when the deathly grip he'd had on the hem of his sweater is released, shaking, icy cold fingers sliding over Renjun's warm palm until the man's hand curls around his own and gives it a gentle squeeze. There's nothing but static white noise buzzing in his ears and screams knocking around in his throat. He shuts his eyes, focuses on chasing the darkness behind his lids, a practised technique that miraculously works to help him fall asleep. Jeno doesn't know when he drifts off. His eyes peel open at gentle prodding. It's Jaemin, carefully shaking him by the shoulder, his other hand cupping the cheek that isn't smushed into Renjun's shoulder.

"The lecture is over." He hears his friend say. "Come on, moon eyes." The feeling clings to him like a phantom he's unable to shake but it's much more muted and dulled by the nap he'd taken. It's enough to get him through the day, at least. His body is sore and there's a dull throb behind his eyes that travel all the way to the base of his neck but maybe some coffee can fix that. Just the thought of drinking something makes his stomach churn unpleasantly and he grimaces as they exit the building, automatically heading for the green stretch of field between their faculty and the next that's their usual hangout space. Only then does Jeno realise he's still holding on to Rejun's hand.

  
  
  


"Injun." Jeno calls, tapping his pen on the older's slim fingers.

Renjun looks up from the book before him, gaze open between the strands of black hair falling over his eyes. He pulls out an earbud and hums. Jeno licks his lips. He doesn't really know why he'd called out to his friend and now that he has his attention, his mind is blank and tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Renjun knows though, he always does with Jeno, and simply smiles, eyes crinkling at the sides and foot knocking against Jeno's playfully beneath the table.

The younger exhales a deep breath he didn't know he was holding and returns the gesture, lips quirking faintly.

"Have you completed the tutorial sheet for next class?" Jaemin's lying on his stomach, looking up at Jeno, their legs a tangled mess on the too-small bed. It's a familiar position though. Jeno can't think of much that he and Jaemin are unfamiliar with, uncharted grounds that they haven't covered together.

"No." He replies honestly. He's been in a bad headspace lately. It isn't the time to slack off what with midterms looming over them and endless coursework and projects to keep them on overdrive, but he can't help it. His brain and body refuse to function and he's lost the hope and desire to change that. Being stuck in this monochromatic twilight zone of infinite nothingness and imminent failure makes him nauseous to the point that he actually does throw up several times a week - no matter the place or time. But nobody needs to know about that. He's lost weight too but he thinks he wears it well, is fascinated by the way his pale skin stretches over the sharp angles of bone and the way his sunken in cheeks make his cheekbones more defined and chiselled.

Jaemin frowns, eyes narrowed like he knows something's wrong but he can't figure out exactly what. Jeno feels the same way.

  
  
  


Sometimes Jeno cries. Most times he forgets how to. He's lying on a bench on campus waiting for his friends to show, staring up at the sky. The air around him is hot and dry, not even a faint wisp of a breeze blowing through the leaves. Sweat rolls down the sides of his ribs, small droplets that feel like rivulets of blood. Even the sky is still - the clouds have been in the same positions and shapes for the past four minutes. He stares until spots begin to dot his vision and his eyes hurt from the intensity of the light refraction. The stagnation of the atmosphere feels too perfect, like the calm before the storm. Jeno can’t help but feel like this is how the world will end - when everything is eerily static and stationary, not even a bird’s shadow crossing the inactive blue and white sea above him.

He finally looks away when he realises too much time has passed and no one’s going to come. As he heads back to his dorm room, the skies suddenly darken, blocking out the sun with thick, grey cumulonimbus towers. The wind abruptly picks up, touselling his hair. He can taste the electric charge of the particles in the tense air around him as it roars miles above his head following streaks of jagged light. The clouds burst just as he makes it to the building, pouring endlessly until the parking lot’s drain overflows.

Mark’s got a hand wrapped around Jeno’s cock, steadily pumping him as he has been doing for the past five minutes or five years, Jeno can’t figure out the concept of time yet. Still, he remains uncooperatively flaccid despite how turned on he feels, skin slick with sweat but chest a dangerously calm rhythm. Eventually, the man above him breathes a disappointed sigh against the shell of his ear and Jeno tries to open his eyes only to realise they’d never been closed. He blinks, focussing on the mouth contorting in a way that tells him Mark is speaking, to him no less, worry swimming in his eyes, but it sounds like a blurry murmur drowned out by the water clogging his ears.

He notices too many things at once - the sheets too sensitive against his prickling skin, the restlessness in his bones, the need to dart off the bed and just run, the tightness of the band of his briefs and sweats cutting into his thighs. But what grabs all of his attention is Jaemin’s seething form standing in the doorway, jaw clenched and eyes hard as he fixates on Jeno and Mark on the bed. Jeno can’t look away, transfixed like a deer caught in headlights and it prompts Mark to turn and follow his gaze. With another long-suffering sigh, Mark announces his leave, presses a detached, emotionless kiss to Jeno’s forehead and shoots him one last worried glance with the instruction to call him if anything’s wrong, before heading out the door without sparing Jaemin a glance. Jaemin doesn’t even flinch when Mark walks right through him.

  
  
  


Jaemin was born some time during Jeno’s last year of primary school. It had been a rough time for him, too young and immature to comprehend why his mind conjured certain thoughts and made his body feel funny. Jaemin was everything Jeno was not and it was how he coped. Where Jeno was withdrawn, uncertain and afraid, Jaemin shone like the brightest beacon in the blackest sky. He oozed confidence and geniality, charmed his way into everyone’s hearts and basked in endless attention.

His father wasn’t forgiving about it, claiming that Jeno was trying to hold on to his childishness by creating imaginary friends when he should be learning to be a man. His mother, however, took his hand and quietly chauffeured him to appointments with Doctor Lee Donghae. Jeno doesn’t remember whether he’d made any progress with the man in the five months he’d been going to see him. Jaemin never left. Jaemin was Jeno and Jeno was Jaemin and he can’t recall Doctor Lee ever questioning that or Jaemin’s existence. He’d eventually stopped his appointments when his mother could no longer afford the bills without making it obvious that her own salary was being depleted abnormally. And that was where the more affordable, neat little orange pill called Adderall was introduced.

Secondary school had been a trying time. Jeno lasted a year before he was pulled out and homeschooled. Again, his mind draws blank on these memories but Jaemin swears he was the belle of the ball, loved by teachers and students alike, and despite his big nose, he was adorable.

University was a shock to Jeno’s culture. Jaemin fit in seamlessly, blossomed under the new environment and lifestyle, urged their mother not to worry and that weekly visits were grossly unnecessary while Jeno weakly protested from the sidelines. Still, he persevered for Jaemin’s, his mother’s and his own sake, swallowing like clockwork to prolong the ticking of the bomb he swears is inside him. Jaemin liked most people but one thing they shared in common was that they didn’t allow anyone to get too close or comfortable. Jaemin was worse in that department. The boy’s face would darken in the blink of an eye if anyone was to even touch Jeno or smile for too long. He’d become volatile and lash out, yelling and threatening until Jeno learnt to keep a safe distance so as to not anger him and face the repercussions later.

Then things changed when Renjun came into the picture. They shared several classes in their second year when Renjun transferred in as an exchange student from China. There was something about the older that captivated Jeno right off the bat, a strange occurrence, but Jeno would learn that that would be a first of many. He learnt to keep Renjun like a dirty little secret from Jaemin, burying him in the deepest, darkest parts of his mind where even he couldn’t reach. He avoided them meeting, always leaving before Jaemin could come and find them.

But then one day, Jaemin did. Jeno prepared for the worst, eyes wide, body quaking and cries ready to roll off his tongue to placate Jaemin’s wrath - except it never came. Jaemin eyed Renjun critically before extending his hand and shaking the older’s with a soft smile. Jaemin later confided that he liked Renjun just as much as Jeno did, that he would not fight him and they agreed to share the older equally.

If Renjun understood Jeno’s condition, he didn’t breathe a word of it. Jeno would find the Chinese man’s eyes lingering on his pill bottle and then his mouth as he swallowed his little burst of joy. Jaemin had been the one to coax them into letting Renjun try it. Jeno’s missing that moment from his memory bank; he’d taken twice the recommended amount out of sheer anxiety and had promptly blanked out, waking up late into the next day with Jaemin brushing the bangs from his hair and offering a glass of water, an assurance that nothing bad happened, and proof that Renjun was fine by a text sitting on his phone, telling Jeno that they needed to do that more often.

Jeno found that he didn’t mind, and even when he’d stepped into the bathroom to wash away the fog clinging to his brain and bones and saw bruises the size of fists and jagged lines of red marring his skin, he remained unbothered, Jaemin’s fleeting kisses along the expanse of his neck keeping him grounded and reassured. Everything was okay.

  
  
  


Things progress ever so slowly, as is natural, the world never stops for anyone, not even itself. Jeno meets Chenle, a mutual friend of Mark and Renjun. The second year of university slowly slips away and is replaced by the third. Jeno realises a little too late that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He understands nothing he’s learnt so far or the materials he’s currently being taught. His Business Studies major is a blank space in his mind, filled with endless question marks and no answers. Does he even pass his exams? He must have or else he wouldn’t be taking year three classes that had previous courses as requirements. Plus, admissions would have contacted him or his mother. How is his mother? Jeno can’t remember the last time he’d spoken to her. It must have been a couple of weeks ago. He’s running low on his pills, upping his dosage to keep up with the constant push he makes in response to life’s ever-demanding pull. Even Jaemin’s strung out, his naturally vibrant aura significantly dulled down and replaced by snark and hours of tense silence.

“Are you okay?” Renjun asks when they’re seated in the bustling food court. They’ve managed to snag a table since it’s after three in the afternoon and most students have classes but there’s still a constant flow of people around them. The loudness makes him tick, his leg bouncing and fingers shaking. He’s too distracted to hide it and Jaemin’s being useless, drawn into himself with a hood pulled low over his head and shoulders slumped forward.

“I-” Jeno stares blankly, lips parted. What was the question? _Are you okay?_ What does that mean? “No.” He responds without having time to dissect the enquiry and find an appropriate answer.

Renjun’s staring at him, a frown pulling at his lips and brows furrowed. He’s concerned - Jeno knows that look all too well, especially from Mark. “Is Jaemin unwell too?”

“Why don’t you ask me yourself?” Jaemin snaps, voice laced with venom. He’s glaring, teeth bared and arms lifted like he’s ready to punch someone.

Renjun’s eyes widen and he flinches back, swallowing hard. It reminds Jeno of popping pills, the smooth movement of the older’s Adam’s apple when he swallows. “Jaem, stop. Please. I’m not well.” Jeno murmurs. His head is spinning and his body suddenly feels heavy. Darkness encases him like a thick blanket, white noise piercing his eardrums and throat burning with bile.

When he comes to, he’s in an unfamiliar place with familiar outfittings. It smells and looks like a hospital. “You’re in the health services building on campus.” Jaemin drawls dully. He’s sitting on a chair at Jeno’s bedside, face shadowed by the dim yellow light coming from the lamp attached to the wall above their heads. It makes him look sallow, deathly and demented, the glow in his eyes not bright and joyous as Jeno remembers it to be everything Jaemin represents, but the manic kind that makes his skin crawl and spine tingle.

“Does mom know?” Jeno speaks, wincing when his throat aches. His entire body is in pain, he realises as he begins to take stock of himself.

Jaemin nods, lips quirked into a wry smile. “Renjun’s in the next room.”

At the words, Jeno’s heart begins to pound erratically, the steady beeping of the monitor now doubling. It feels like he can’t breathe, like the organ has shut down despite its turbulent thumping. “W-what happened to him?” He wheezes, sweat breaking out along his forehead and upper lip when Jaemin grins wickedly.

“You don’t want to know.”

  
  
  


Jeno’s pulled from university, an executive decision made by the board overseeing his case, with added pressure from Renjun’s parents. He still doesn’t know what happened to his only friend and it pains him every day, haunts him like a neverending nightmare, his brain supplying horrifying images to fill the spaces in his memory. He’s stopped asking Jaemin and won’t dare question his mother. Instead, he spends most of his time locked away in his room, avoiding his father altogether and keeping himself occupied with Jaemin and his gaming console. Jaemin’s condition doesn’t improve and with no one around to keep Jeno in balance, Jeno also begins to deteriorate. He tries not to show it, pretends to eat the food his mother brings to his room when he just throws it out the window and watches as it falls into the shrubs seven floors down. He smiles and laughs when his mother expects him to. He takes his medication and is careful to hide the extra stashes Jaemin had linked him with from a guy Jeno doesn’t know, who only comes to their apartment once Jeno’s mom is at work.

He swallows three pills and falls back onto his bed, waiting for the inevitable destruction to come. He’s home alone today, his father out of the country on a business trip and his mother at work. She’d informed him earlier that she has a meeting later so she’ll be home after dark. It’s only two in the afternoon. He has enough time. “No, you don’t.” Jaemin retorts sardonically. He’s swinging on Jeno’s office chair, blond hair disturbed by the wind coming through the open window.

“I don’t?” Jeno questions vaguely. His head is starting to spin. He feels light, like he’s sinking into his mattress but floating all at once. He will never get used to the contradicting things he always experiences.

“Nope.” Jaemin pops the _p_. “Remember what happens when you throw your food out the window?”

Is this supposed to be a trick question? Jeno’s eyebrows crease as he thinks. It falls. What else? It just… _falls_.

“Indeed it does. Doesn’t that sound freeing?”

Jeno scrunches up his nose. “Not really.” He responds. “Why would it be?”

“Jeno,” Jaemin calls like he’s speaking to a little child. “Why do you claw at your chest? Why do you punch yourself?” Jeno touches his chest and feels a bite of pain. He looks down and sees the blurry outline of his fingers digging into his skin, nails smeared with blood.

“The bomb.” He gasps. “To get out the bomb.” Jaemin smiles and nods gently like he’s made a breakthrough. “Oh no. Is it going to explode?”

“It already has, sweetheart. Don’t you see? This is why things are bad now. The bomb has exploded and we’re living in the aftermath.”

It hurts and Jeno sobs. He bawls, unable to hear himself scream over repeated explosions going off in his head. He couldn’t save them. He failed. The bomb exploded. “What’s going to happen, Jaem? I can’t fix this.” He cries, tearing at his hair. They come out in large clumps, scalp stinging. Black strands fall onto the floor and that’s when Jeno realises he’s no longer lying on his bed. He’s taken Jaemin’s outstretched hand, warm, firm and assuring as always, eyes transfixed on the younger’s now radiant smile as they draw near to the window. The air isn’t still today. It’s cool and sunny and breezy, a wonderful combination. Today is a great day.

“We can fix this. Just like Doctor Lee, just like the Adderall, just like Renjun and mum - we can fix this too.”

Jeno peers over the ledge to the shrubs below. They look so small. He has a fleeting thought about what happens to the food. Do they become fertiliser? Or sustenance for squirrels and mice? Jaemin climbs onto the sill, swinging his legs over the edge. His hand is still holding on to Jeno’s and he helps steady him as he joins him. “Ready?” Jeno hears him ask.

He can do nothing but nod, finally feeling the pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

_And then he falls._


End file.
